


An Ulterior Motive To Her Indulgence

by Galadriel1010



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adventure, Canon Disabled Character, Established Relationship, F/F, Heist, Inquisition Disbanded, Married Life, Orlais (Dragon Age), Parties as a form of warfare, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, The Inquisitor is Retired, canon-typical monologuing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:41:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28097838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galadriel1010/pseuds/Galadriel1010
Summary: Sera enjoys these kinds of parties, with enough mischief afoot Herah finds she can, too.Poor Inky. She never gets to go to a party and just enjoy the tiny cakes
Relationships: Female Adaar/Sera (Dragon Age), Female Inquisitor/Sera (Dragon Age)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11
Collections: Mistletoe Exchange 2020





	An Ulterior Motive To Her Indulgence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sheeana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheeana/gifts).



> Huge thanks to Karios for nudging me into shape. I hope you enjoy this Sheeana <3

Candles glittered like stars in a dazzling chandelier which hung from a dark blue ceiling that was studded with sparkling gemstones. The refracted light mapped out the great constellations above a wide sweep of intricately patterned parquet flooring. Around the edge of the dancefloor, couples and groups stood by the rail with glasses of wine and tiny cakes in their hands, their voices adding a gentle susurrus to the elegant performance of the chamber orchestra that occupied the low stage. Eyes drifted to the head of the stairs, and a hush fell over the room as the latest arrivals reached the top of the steps and, arm in arm, made their way towards Duke Cyril de Montfort at the head of the hall.

"Announcing her Worship Comtesse Herah Adaar First-Thaw of Kirkwall, Inquisitor Emeritus, Herald of Andraste, Hero of the South." The servant paused for breath, likely grateful that he hadn't been presented with her full list of titles. "And her wife, Comtesse Sera Adaar of Kirkwall."

Sera giggled. "You should have let me do one of the funny ones."

"I like hearing you introduced as my wife," Herah told her. "And besides, we're not here for fun."

"Spoil sport."

She tried to hide a smile. "We're here to make use of the wyvern down mattress. Duke Cyril, it's a pleasure to see you again," she said, raising her voice to cover Sera's giggles. "We were delighted to receive your invitation."

"It is always a joy to have my dear friends here," he said, lying through his teeth. "It has been some time since you attended court, has it not? I hope you will enjoy the company tonight."

She smiled back. "I'm sure we will, Duke Cyril."

He had been circumspect in his invitation, of course - he was Orlesian after all. It wasn't the done thing to write to the Divine and tell her that you suspected a Venatori agent was at work in northern Orlais, and would she please send someone capable of investigating the suspicion and dealing with it accordingly? No, one simply invited the (retired) Inquisitor and her wife to a ball, and then mentioned one's concerns in passing to a close friend where they would be overheard by a servant - who was almost certainly spying for the Inquisition, or the Red Jennies, or possibly the Viscount of Kirkwall - and hoped that if they were actually working for the Dread Wolf he would either deal with it himself or make sure that word reached the Inquisitor. The fact that all rumours did eventually reach Herah by one route or another meant that it did work, no matter how many times she told the Divine she was retired.

Sera grabbed a goblet of wine for each of them from a passing servant and peered into hers suspiciously. "If you keep answering their requests, they'll keep asking," she pointed out, like she'd read Herah's mind.

"Someone," she said pointedly, "gets in a huff if I even look to be thinking about not helping out. Someone whose opinion I value highly and who I wouldn't want to think poorly of me."

"Awwww." Sera giggled. "Alright, fair point. But we're going on a honeymoon after this."

She hummed thoughtfully. "I haven't objected the last few times you've dragged me on a honeymoon. Mind you, this stretch of the Vimmarks is charming, in its way. Duke Cyril has invited us on a wyvern hunt."

Sera made a very rude noise, and an even ruder one when the du Launcet sisters were introduced. "Come on," she said, wrapping a hand around Herah's upper arm. "Let's take a turn around the room, see if we can spot anything."

# # #

They drifted through the crowd, greeting friends, allies, and strangers alike, and Herah found it took all of her concentration just to remember who was who. Names sleeted past her with vague recollections. Lady d’Ameride... not a friend. Still irritated by the truth about Inquisitor Ameridan, apparently. Bastien Proulx, too cheery by half. Still scraping his way back into the Empress's graces after backing Gaspard. His support from the Inquisition had saved his neck; no wonder he was so keen to seek Herah out and reminisce about good times on the Exalted Plains.

He asked Herah for a dance before she could get away, and she was surprised to find Sera taking her barely-touched wine from her hand and nudging her towards the dance floor. "Go on," she said. "I'll mind the drinks, you have fun."

"Sera..."

Sera waggled her eyebrows in a far from subtle way and took a sip of Herah's wine. "I'll be fine. I'm sure I can amuse myself."

Herah could take a hint, especially when it was disguised as an instruction, so she allowed Bastien to lead her down the short flight of steps. As they reached the bottom, the music drifted through the introduction and the other couples took their places in the circle to begin the branle. It was a complicated dance, made more complicated by her missing arm. The gentleman to her left, a Nevarran noble with tenuous connections to the throne, kept reaching for a hand that wasn't there, and although they laughed it off, it still left both of them off balance especially during the quick kicks and the bizarre cross step. Herah had a moment to think that Josephine would be proud of how well she carried it off, before she returned most of her attention to remembering the steps and whatever she had left over to not falling over. It was a good job Sera was doing the snooping because if she'd been intending to gather any information from the dance floor, they would have been sorely disappointed.

When the dance finally ended, she left the floor with the best combination of haste and dignity that she could manage. She was rewarded for her efforts by Sera greeting her at the top of the stairs with a fresh glass of wine and a pleased grin that promised trouble. Despite everything - mostly the dance - Herah grinned back. "You look pleased with yourself," she observed, letting Sera take her arm and steer her towards the wide Orlesian windows that opened onto the fragrant garden. "Having fun?"

"You know I enjoy these kinds of parties." Sera guided her past a group of gossiping young women and onto the gravel path between the tastelessly ornate fountains. "You'll save a dance for me, yeah?"

"You could have had that one if you hadn't sent me off to dance with someone else." The du Launcet sisters passed them going the other way, and Herah inclined her head in absent-minded greeting without bothering to try and remember if they were supposed to be speaking to them or not. "It's an interesting gathering, don't you think?"

Sera giggled. "Oh, very. I want to see how the bedrooms are organised." She tugged Herah into an ivy-draped alcove and pulled her down with both hands on her shoulders. "There's going to be a lot of bed swapping tonight."

"Is there now?" She pressed a kiss to Sera's lips and leaned down further to whisper in her ear. "Any sign of our friend?"

Sera snorted. "Too many pricks to know which one's which. A few up for a proper Jennying. Got my eye on a smuggler, too. Could be useful either way."

"That's a lot to think about," Herah murmured, whilst doing nothing of the sort. Instead she pulled Sera into a kiss again and groaned against her lips. "When do we get to go up to bed?"

"Not until you've dealt with the Venatori agent," Sera told her with a giggle, pulling back out of reach. "And then... I have plans for you."

She sighed. "Why do I put up with you?"

"I'll remind you later," Sera giggled. "Now you need to go back to work." She pushed at Herah's shoulders. "Distract them."

"How? And when?"

"You'll find a way, and I'll know it when I see it. I need a while, alright?"

# # #

More servants were now drifting through the crowd, with silver platters piled high with more tiny cakes and the frilly little pastries that were all the fashion at these sorts of parties. Herah took one absently and then had to juggle it with her wine. The effort wasn't even worth it, as she discovered after the first bite that it was stuffed with deep mushroom and tasted like the morning after a night out with Dorian. It gave her an idea, though, and she grabbed a bottle of wine from a side table, made her way to the rail that ringed the dance floor, and then dropped it all over the silver gown of a Comtesse from the Dales who'd annoyed her once too often. The Comtesse shrieked, wheeled round to berate her, stumbled when she realised who it was, and eventually stammered into shocked silence as Herah made loud, fumbling apologies and gestured expressively with her remaining hand, only succeeding in throwing what remained of her glass of wine over another irritating noble behind her.

"I am so sorry," she repeated. "Maker, you wouldn't believe I used to fight dragons, would you?"

The noble brushed himself down and gave her a rictus smile. "It is quite alright, your Worship. It is... difficult to adapt, no?"

"So hard," she agreed. "I mean, it's better than the alternative. I'll never forget running through those ruins, thinking my own hand was going to kill me, but it’s amazing how off balance it puts you. I can't even dance anymore!"

The Comtesse, despite being drenched with wine, saw her moment and seized it. "Ah, but Inquisitor, it was so brave of you to pursue the Qunari and drive them back to Par Vollen. Did it not worry you, being Qunari yourself?"

She shook her head. "I am no Qunari," she insisted, "and I have no fondness for the Qun. The Qun drove my parents away and the Chantry welcomed us in. I was proud to stand for my people against the invasion."

"How... dashing," the Comtesse simpered. "And you truly fought a dragon?"

"I've fought plenty." Herah accepted another glass of wine and leaned on the rail, allowing herself to enjoy the attention in the interests of the mission. There was no ulterior motive to her indulgence at all... "Of course, Corypheus's dragon was a fearsome thing. But I think my favourite of all our dragon fights was in the Hissing Wastes, in the ruins of a dwarven tomb..."

# # #

"And then it took off, out towards the Blood Cliffs, where it had already done us the favour of smashing a Carta lyrium smuggling ring," Herah told her adoring audience. "When it soared up into the sky, the refugees at Redcliffe could see it circling overhead. We knew we were close. Not how close, but we knew we had to bring it down, so we chased it down through the valley, dodging dragonlings all the way, then passed under the collapsed arch and burst out into this natural arena where the dragon waited for us. I reached for..."

A ripple was spreading through the crowd from the side wing that led up to the guest bedrooms, so Herah trailed off and straightened up. Her height allowed her to see the servant ducking through towards Duke Cyril and the familiar blond head cutting its way through towards Herah. Some startled yelps and a bitten off curse later, and Sera squeezed her way through. She released her skirts, which she'd gathered up to push through the crowd, and they fell over her familiar soft leather shoes. "Someone was going through the bedrooms," she announced indignantly, to squawks of consternation from the other attendees. "I found him when I went into our room, but he went out the window. That must have been how he got in I reckon."

Eyes began to turn to Duke Cyril, whose mask hid most of his expression but not the way he was glaring at Herah, and a young man made a show of fainting dramatically onto one of the carefully positioned couches. The Duke held his hands up placatingly. "I must apologise most sincerely, my friends, but I have the matter under control. My guards will surround the estate and conduct a thorough search. No one will leave the grounds until the perpetrator has been caught."

"Funny thing," Sera said to Herah, in her clearest and most carrying voice, "I had one of the servants check some of the other rooms and it looked the same in there as in ours. He was looking for something. Not diamonds or baubles, or anything like that. I'd say he was looking for evidence."

"Evidence of what?" someone gasped obligingly.

Sera shrugged. "Who can say? I mean, no one here has anything to hide, right?"

There was a long and very pregnant silence, broken eventually by a titter of nervous laughter and a general shuffling towards the dance floor or the drinks. A few people started heading for the guest wing, with loud announcements that they needed to check that their jewels had not been taken. Herah, too, slipped away and made her way round to where Duke Cyril was still glaring.

"What is the meaning of this, Inquisitor?"

"I assure you, I know no more than you do," she told him, and did not let the fact that she'd omitted to mention what Sera might or might not know get in the way of her ploughing on. "In fact, I'm not even the Inquisitor anymore. But if you would permit me to work with your guards..."

He gave her a sharp nod and turned away. "This is a disaster. Chateau Haine will become notorious."

"I'll do my best to see the affair concluded, your Grace."

She left him stewing and made her way back through the crowd towards the house entrance. The crowd parted ahead of her, and over on the far side of the room, the Nevarran noble she'd danced with earlier made a less than surreptitious move in the same direction. As he pushed past other guests, he was met with sharp yelps of consternation and a sudden swarm of bees sent people scattering. He reached the entrance hall a few paces ahead of her and stopped in his tracks when he found the door blocked by guards, but before she'd caught him, he turned and flung a wall of ice in her direction and bolted to his right into the garden.

The ice was inexpertly cast and melted away when Herah rolled a waft of fire towards it with a flick of her fingers. She slipped on the wet marble as she took off after him, so by the time she burst out into the garden there was, at first, no sign of him. Another shatter of ice drove her back into the building, though. When she careened out again, she turned back to see him climbing the trellis up from the higher balcony to the roof. His distraction was enough time for Herah to take the stairs two at a time, and she got off a bolt of lightning aimed at his back before he pulled himself over the edge of the roof and out of sight. She cursed again, drew a shield around her, and launched herself up as much of the trellis as she could in a single bound.

If dancing had been hard with one arm, climbing was a really bad idea. She gritted her teeth and climbed her feet up as high as she could, then released her grip and surged up again. For a moment she thought it had all gone badly wrong, and she was going to have some explaining to do to Sera, if she was lucky, but then she had grabbed hold of the trellis only a few feet from the parapet, and one more push like that would see her over the top.

# # #

Herah had just managed to get hold of the parapet and dig her feet into the top of the trellis when a head appeared over the edge above her, and the Nevarran mage grinned down at her. "Well, Inquisitor," he crowed. "This is a victory worth dying for."

"I'm not the Inquisitor," she gritted out, "I'm not dying, and I haven't won yet."

He laughed lightly and leaned further down. "It's not your victory at all, your Worship. I know you have survived a great deal, but a fall like this... I think not."

Her eyes narrowed and she dug into the trellis even more, coiled like a spring. She watched as he lowered one of his hands to hers in almost slow motion, resting it lightly in a caress before sliding it down to her wrist. A second later, he screamed and reeled back as flames licked their way up his sleeve, and Herah hauled herself up onto the roof behind him. He was still doing his best to put out the fire, so she was impressed, if a little irritated, when he still managed to get off a spell that spread sheet ice across the already slippery tiles at her feet.

"Well done, Inquisitor," he snarled. "You have set a trap for both of us. Let us both take our victory."

She had barely enough time to throw up a shield before a cascade of dagger-sharp icicles shattered against it. "I've never met you before tonight," she told him. "I haven't a clue what we're doing up here."

He laughed and bowed deeply. His sleeve was destroyed, but no longer on fire. "Forgive me, Inquisitor, I must have arrived before you. I am Phendre van Markham, of the Minrathous Circle."

She tried to gather fire around fingers that weren't there and tried not to let on that she'd just done that. "What was a van Markham doing in the Minrathous Circle?"

Phendre lifted his hands. "Studying, your Worship."

Herah had only a moment's warning, the prickling on the back of her neck from magic gathering at the edges of the veil, before the air temperature plummeted and a blizzard whipped up around her. She allowed her shield to drop at last and gathered the threads of energy up into fire that she lashed out with blindly, cutting through the ice and across the slippery tile towards Phendre. Her whip found its target and she was rewarded with a yelp before the ice clung tighter and froze her in position. She pulled back on the fire to melt away her bonds, but they held firm. 

"Inquisitor First-thaw," he tutted, holding her in place with one raised hand. When she lashed out with the fire again, he dodged it easily and laughed. "Ah, no wonder you have retired. You really are past it, aren't you?"

"I keep telling people that." She let her attention drop from the bonds and reached out again to behind him. "I did my part."

"You betrayed your people," he snarled, all humour now gone. "You returned Southern mages to the yoke of the Chantry when we could have served a new god and lived freely."

She laughed. "Wouldn't have worked. You need a better god. Have you considered the Dread Wolf?"

He scoffed. "A fairy story? Is that all you can offer me. I..." He was cut off with another scream when her fireball engulfed him. The distraction caused the ice to shatter and melt away.

Herah dodged to one side, and by the time he'd got his robes extinguished, she was behind him once more. "I saw the future he would have built. You don't want it, I promise."

"I care nothing for your promises, Inquisitor emeritus." He shook his hands out again and raised them. "Now, prepare for...urk!"

This time when he fell silent, it was for good. A red arrow protruded from his chest, and he stared down at it in almost offended surprise before sinking to his knees and tumbling onto his side. Herah sagged and slumped onto the slow wall at the edge of the roof, gasping for breath, and on the far wing, Sera lowered her bow. "Sorry, Tadwinks! I got here as soon as I could."

"Just in time," Herah assured her. "I think he was about to start monologuing." She dragged herself to her feet again and the pair of them picked their way carefully across to the roof of the main section of the building, where Sera offered her a hand over the rail onto the rooftop garden. "Thanks."

"Any time." Sera dragged her over to one of the stone benches and hopped up onto it, so they were nearer to the same height, then pulled her in and kissed her deeply. "Did he really try and say you're past it?"

She sighed and rested her forehead on Sera's chest, careful to avoid stabbing her with her horns. "I am past it, Sera. I'm tired. And retired!"

"Well, if this is what you're like when you're past it, no wonder Corphy-face never stood a chance." Sera rubbed between Herah's horns and then used them to pull her up for another kiss. "You nearly had him without me."

"I really didn't."

"Then it's a good job you weren't without me. And you won't be, not ever." They stared into each other's eyes again, until Sera was the first to break it with a giggle. "Come on. Sooner we get this sorted, the sooner we can make a start on keeping everyone awake tonight."

Herah sighed and helped her down from the bench, then slung her good arm around Sera's shoulders. "What were you doing, anyway?"

"Oh, planting the evidence in his room. Most of it. I think a few people will find some indiscreet letters have been mislaid, but I'm sure he just dropped them when he was running across the roof. Or maybe they burned when you set fire to his robes." She looked up thoughtfully. "That's a good one, actually. Good thinking."

"Sera..."

"Anyway!" She grinned up at Herah again, eyes sparkling in the moonlight. "Neat trick with the bees. Even I hadn't thought of that one."

Herah's step faltered. "What trick with the bees?"

"In the hall downstairs. Sent everyone scrambling proper that did. Got me away in the panic and kept everyone out of his reach too." Sera, too, came to a stop. "What, you mean you didn't do the bees?"

Herah smiled. "I did not do the bees."

They looked down at their feet, towards the hall below, and Sera laughed. "Ten royals says it was one of Varric's people."

"I'll take that bet. There's no way the Divine sent us alone." She wrapped her arm around Sera again, and they carried on towards the gathering crowd at the entrance to the roof terrace. "Twenty says we never know either way, though."


End file.
